


Left Unsaid

by orphan_account



Category: Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:58:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8044993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: As it turns out Simon is not entirely on board with the dangers Jace's job entails.





	Left Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> There are pretty explicit mentions of and allusions to Jace being suicidal in this fic.

Simon has always known this day would come.

Shadowhunters don't live long, they say. They either fight 'til their last breath or they retire as soon as it gets too much for them.

Simon knows that giving up fighting has never been an option for Jace. It's too close to defeat for his comfort.

Actually, considering, Simon is surprised he isn't prepared for this.  
Evidently, though, he's not.

Pulling Jace into the closest room, which happens to be Lydia's office, he tries to fight back the tears welling up. "Are you fucking insane?"  
Jace looks at him, his expression infuriatingly calm. "It's a mission. This is what I do."  
"It's a _suicide_ mission," Simon clarifies. "I can't believe the Clave even authorizes these." He pauses. Considers. "Actually, that I can believe. I can't believe you raised your hand!"  
"Better me, than anyone else."

" _No!_ " Simon doubles back when he notices the force with which he says it. "No. That's not how it works. That's not how _this_ ," he lifts a hand to gesture between them, "works."

Jace crosses his arms. "How does this work, then?"  
"I don't-" Simon drops his arms, fingers itching for something to hold. "You don't get to go out and die."  
"Simon, that's my job, it's what I have to do."

"Well..." Jace looks at him expectantly. "I don't like it."  
"It's my duty."  
"Yeah, you keep saying that," Simon says. "You always say you were born to fight, that it's your _duty_ and you _have_ to do it. As if you have no other options."

"Jace." He sinks a hand into his hair, ruffles it up, and when Jace doesn't say anything, he goes in for the kill. "Do you even want this?"

Jace averts his eyes, mouth pulled tight. Simon can see the words beating under his skin, forming on his tongue but nothing comes out.  
The hot ball of lead in Simon's stomach churns at the sight.

"Look," he starts, but cuts himself off when Jace looks up. His throat goes dry while he takes in Jace's hunched position, the caged look behind the cracks in the shattered calm of his eyes.  
It occurs to him how pathetic this is, two boys with all things to say, not knowing how to say anything at all. He takes a cautious step closer, reaching out.

Jace looks down at his hand, three painful seconds, before he bats it away, making the dread in Simon's stomach boil over. He feels the faint urge to throw up. 

It's a mean realization, that he won't be able to let Jace go. It hits hard and unexpected, and he can't look away from Jace who is this close to pushing him away in the cruelest way possible, Simon can feel it. Jace still isn't looking at him, eyeing the door behind Simon instead.

Simon registers him moving and puts up a hand, holding him up with it, fingers spreading over Jace's chest, over his shirt and the zipper on both sides of his leather jacket.  
"Please don't leave," he manages to plead.

Jace swallows, and throws a look up to the ceiling. Simon shuts his eyes when Jace's right hand closes around his wrist. Their arms lower, Jace's fingers slipping down to link them with Simon's, and Jace takes a further step towards the door, stepping right into Simon's space.

"I don't know," he sighs and Simon holds his breath because the words come out breathy and rasped, like he hasn't spoken in years. "I don't know what I want."

It's like he's frozen to the spot now, neither his fingers nor his eyes nor his body moving even an inch. Simon leans upwards, lifting his hand in a sloppy motion, stretching his fingers. The slope of Jace's neck is smooth and comforting, a good place for Simon to rest his hand, he thinks.

Jace sighs one more time and meets Simon halfway until their foreheads touch. Simon's thumb rubs slow circles into Jace's neck.  
"You don't have to." His voice sounds too loud in the dark room, but Jace doesn't even flinch. "But you don't have to kill yourself over something that you're not sure you even want. Nothing is worth your sanity. Or your life."

Jace pulls back and he's finally, finally looking at Simon, pushing his hair out of his face before he takes off his glasses, throwing them onto Lydia's desk with careless precision. "I don't know. I can think of a few things."

Simon shakes his head, hope sneaking through the cracks in the burning weight in his gut. There is an ethical conversation to be had here, that he's not ready for. Besides, Jace is close, close, close and as history has proven that is never a good time for Simon to open his mouth to try to get out something coherent.

His thumb's stopped moving, his hand wandering to the back of Jace's neck. 

They're going to figure it out.  
He needs to tell Jace that they'll figure it out. Jace needs to know.

He opens his mouth and Jace is there, Simon's eyes closing automatically when Jace tugs at his bottom lip, letting go and pulling Simon closer by the small of his back. The sensation of Jace's lips on his is like a hook, drawing all his attention to the places where Jace is touching him.

As soon as he's backed up against the door the noise filtering through from the other side disappears under Jace's hands, one braced against the door, the other letting go of Simon's fingers and sliding up to press against his ribcage.  
There's a sound lodged in the back of Simon's throat, escaping only when Jace pulls away for a second and Simon follows the missing warmth, his eyes opening to a slit before Jace moves back in. Simon slings his arm around Jace's neck, because pretty much all the room in his brain is reserved for _more, more, more_ and _closer_.

When they seperate after a few minutes Jace's pupiles are blown wide to the size of plates, and Simon is left panting, not willing to put distance between the two of them yet. Fortunately, Jace seems to be having thoughts along those same lines, shoving his nose into Simon's hair, kissing the top of his head.

Simon buries his head in the crook of his neck, and thinks that maybe he doesn't need to say it.  
Maybe he just needs to show him.


End file.
